


and joy comes with the morning

by chaseyesterdays



Series: Heartlines [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Purposeful Baby Acquisition, Romance, all of the comfortable domesticity, i just have way too many scamander/kowalski kid headcanons okay, it's my birthday and i regret nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaseyesterdays/pseuds/chaseyesterdays
Summary: Their son enters the world just before dawn on the eighth of December, an impossibly precious bundle of Tina’s coloring and Newt’s bone structure and a set of lungs that are all his own.Or, how the first of the Scamander children got his name.





	and joy comes with the morning

**Author's Note:**

> It's not the final update of ashes, but since today is my birthday and I was dying for fluff, I decided to share this little ficlet with the rest of the fandom. I have way too many headcanons about the Scamander and Kowalski kids, you guys - they have fancasts and bios and they refuse to leave me alone. Here's hoping you love this piece as much as I loved writing it!

Their son enters the world just before dawn on the eighth of December, an impossibly precious bundle of Tina’s coloring and Newt’s bone structure and a set of lungs that are all his own. Tina laughs through her tears as they place him into her arms, and though she is weak and wrung-out and thoroughly _exhausted,_ Newt thinks she has never been more beautiful.

He perches on the edge of the hospital bed as he gazes down at their newborn. His vision blurs despite himself; he blinks the moisture back, determined to take everything in unimpeded by tears. A callused finger reaches out to stroke the baby’s hand and his lips split in an incredulous smile when his son – his _son_ – wraps his own tiny digits around his fingertip. Newt beams up at his wife with a heart so full he’s sure it will burst. “He’s beautiful, Tina,” he breathes, joy and wonder and disbelief spilling over and chasing down his cheeks in trails of saline. “He’s _perfect._ He looks… Merlin, he looks so much like you.”

Tina laughs, watery and wavering but bright enough to slip between the gaps in his chest and warm the place that only she could ever occupy. “Let’s hope he grows out of that soon,” she quips. Newt presses a kiss against her shoulder, unable to understand how she does not know how beautiful she is. Her fingers tremble for just a moment as she reaches to smooth back a wisp of their son’s downy hair. “I think he looks more like you. He’s got your nose.”

“And I do apologize for that,” Newt says. His breath catches on something between a laugh and a sob. He cannot quite believe this is _real_ ; it seems as though he might wake up at any moment. “Perhaps he’ll take after you and be a bit less inclined to break that nose gallivanting after dragons.”

“No,” she whispers, leaning into him and tipping her head to settle against his jaw. “He’ll be so incredibly lucky if he turns out to be like you. We’ll just…try to keep the broken noses to a minimum.”

He holds her with every ounce of strength he has and thinks that _“I love you”_ will never be enough to thank her for the gift she’s given him. His lips find her temple and press salt-stained kisses there until he recovers enough to speak. “We never did decide on a name for a boy, did we?”

“No.” She huffs out a laugh. “You were so convinced we were going to have a girl. We couldn’t settle on anything for a boy.”

“Yes, well. Sorry about that.” Newt leans in close to his sleeping son. “Nothing personal, you know. I had a fifty percent chance of being right. Your mother just lucked out on her odds." 

Tina smiles and brushes her lips against the hinge of his jaw. He settles her more comfortably against him, knowing that she is exhausted and aching and in need of his strength. They both fall silent for a moment.

“You know,” he begins, hesitantly. “There _is_ a name I’ve been thinking about, for a boy.”

He feels her hum into his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Well…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “You mentioned, once, that we should choose a name that carries meaning. Something that would be important to both of us.”

She nods as he presses his lips into her hair. “My father always said that a name is the first gift you ever give a child. Though,” her nose wrinkles, “I’m not sure how _‘Porpentina’_ fits into that.”

Newt smiles against her skin. “It’s lovely, you know. And so are you. But I agree: a name should be a gift given to the child who possesses it. It should carry meaning, for us and for him.”

She nods again. “So what are you thinking?”

His thumb traces slow circles where it meets her skin. “I want his name to be something he can be proud of,” he murmurs, a little rougher than before. “I know we’ve never discussed it, and the decision is ultimately yours. But with your permission, I was hoping we could…”

Her voice is soft and gentle. “What?”

He draws back, gazing down at their son before searching her face. “I would like to call him Isaac, in honor of your father. Because…well, if a name is a gift, I can think of no better gift to give him than the name his grandfather bore.”

She goes still in his arms for a moment before her eyes, wide and liquid, come up to meet his. “My father’s name,” she breathes shakily; he watches the tears rise until one traitorous droplet makes a path down her cheek. “ _Newt…”_

“It means _‘laughter,_ ’” he says, feeling his throat start to tighten. “And that is what I wish for him, the same laughter and happiness and joy that he’s brought us, and that your father brought you. There’s no better name for him, really… It just rather _fits_ , and…” He swallows. “I couldn’t meet your father, and neither can our son. But I want him to carry a piece of his family with him, so no matter where he is, he will always know that he is _loved_.”

Tina nods. Tears stream unchecked as she cradles their son close. _“Isaac,”_ she whispers, testing the name on her tongue. She finally looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes; he watches her shoulders hitch just once. “I wish they could see him,” she rasps, and he pulls her impossibly closer because he knows how much their loss hurts her, even now.

“I know, love,” he breathes against her forehead, and she hides her face in the crook of his neck because she hates for him to see her cry. He whispers comfort into her hair until her silent tears have ceased flowing and her body no longer trembles from old grief.

The tiny bundle they hold between them begins to squirm and fuss. The baby mewls softly and Tina laughs, sniffling as she strokes his cheek until he quiets and leans into her touch. “Isaac,” she whispers again, and Newt can swear the baby’s lips twitch upward at her voice.

“Isaac,” he repeats, with all of the love his heart has ever held. When Tina smiles up at him and claims his lips in a gentle kiss, he knows they’ve made the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews make for one hell of a good birthday present, am I right?
> 
> (@chaseyesterdays on Tumblr for more fandom nonsense and occasional screaming)


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